


Anything

by AceLucky



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Confessions of love, Experimental writing, Floor Sex, Kissing, Love, Meditation, Multi, Need, Politics, Present Tense, Reader's thoughts, Reno x reader - Freeform, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, Storms, Worry, gender neutral reader, tender love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24610132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceLucky/pseuds/AceLucky
Summary: What would you do while home alone in your apartment waiting for Reno to come home? Hoping Reno will come home... And when he does and he's bruised and bloody, how do you want him? Closeness. It's always too much. It's not enough. A beat. Panting. Anything & Everything.
Relationships: Reno (Compilation of FFVII)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 65





	Anything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing about Reno - I decided to write the reader parts as gender neutral.
> 
> The piece is written in the present tense and there's parts where the story is talking to the reader. It's very much an experimental piece! Maybe it's a little pretentious but *shrugs* it's nice to do something different, language is beautiful and expressing love is a joy. 
> 
> Finally - i'm not going to lie, this one gets a little political, only briefly but towards the end I decided to go that way. This isn't something new for me, but especially with what is happening right now, I had to take the thoughts in this direction.

Awake. Take 5 seconds and remember where you are, the reality of the situation in all it’s glory, beauty and cruelty. 

You can move now if you want? Do you want to? Moving is harder when you’re alone, the presence of the other makes it easier to get up in the morning, or the evening. Sometimes you sleep all day and work at night. Sometimes you party all night. It’s a game where you each flirt with others to try to make the other jealous. But it always ends up the same, snap of hips, deep kisses, dancing like you’re making love in the middle of the floor. Sweat dripping from the heat of the club lights. Hands roaming under hem of shirt, putting on a display for others. 

Life is a game, who was it who said that?

The first kiss, oh. Just thinking about his hands on you and your pulse is quickening, your teeth graze your lower lip, hand trembling lower, lower….lower. Ohhhhhh. 

“Yah know what yah gotta do,” Reno had said as he left earlier that morning, giving a wink as he spoke. Cocky, yes. “Or rather what not to,” he added giving you a wicked grin. 

Obedient, a heart full of love and earning you nod as you always do. No matter how wicked your thoughts are you won’t cum not until he’s home.

He’d kissed you roughly before he left as he always does and then says the words that he reserves for when he leaves for work. His words are so faint just like a promise written into a password or scrawled in a notebook in invisible ink. It’s barely there, practically indistinguishable. The words feel like whispers on your neck, whispers that cling to peach fuzz hair that covers your skin. The words ripple, echo in your mind all day whether you’re at home, with friends, at work… Wherever the world takes you you take Reno’s words with you. “I love you.”

In the darkness you are awake and you know you are alone. The space next to you void, no need to turn on the light to know Reno isn’t home. You wonder how many hours have passed since he left, you wonder if he’ll be home tonight, you wonder but know that wondering leads to worrying and that the apartment can feel equally a palace and a prison depending on your state of mind.

Leaving the bedroom you shower and get ready, it’s a ritual for going no where. But you’re ready for when your baby gets home. 

Your fingers tapping on glass, the rhythm they make is in perfect time with the pattering of rain the other side. Flashes of lightning bring the outside world in, curtains open, too late to bother being drawn. 

There’s a steady repetition in your life now and it feels stable? Is that the word? It doesn’t seem likely to others that you’ve found stability in Reno and yet here you are. 

Despite living topside and the luxuries that come with it, your apartment is currently void of electricity by your own choice. There’s everything you could need but tonight you’d rather sit in contemplation of everything that isn’t inside, all apart from the stereo which quietly plays moody jazz. 

Waiting had become a sport of sorts, one you were undoubtedly good at. 

Sitting on the floor, legs crossed you play the waiting game and meditate. Your eyes shut for 5 and then open for 5. The sight of the city and all the noise that comes with it not to mention the angry sky above seems somehow calmer and more collected than the chaos inside your mind.

There’s always so much noise, sometimes unbearable. Reno quells the noise, for someone so loud, sure of himself and occasionally childishly naive, he’s grown up a lot. He knows you as if you were a part of him and knows that to do to ground you. You return the favour. 

“Koyaanisqatsi,” he’d said one evening as you rolled off him after you’d finished making love.

Having no idea what he was talking about you looked it up on the net the next day, Reno was right, it was a perfect word to describe your relationship, it was out of balance. It was chaotic but it worked for the two of you even if it would work for no one else. 

Something akin to a sixth sense awakens inside you, hands balled into the rug beneath in anticipation, thighs squeezed together as you taste your own lips. Cherry. You apply cherry lip balm every hour just incase Reno walks through the door.

Keys rustling, the lock, your chest tightens as you turn over your shoulder. A shadow in the door frame, flash of lightning igniting your passion and his as your eyes lock. Blood still glistening and he looks so tired with the world. Hair messy, in need of a brush, shirt open a little more than usual. 

Exhausted. Reno, he’s exhausted. 

His chest covered in red streaks, bruises blooming on his skin like a peach. Cerulean eyes searching for home, for comfort though the words will never pass his lips. The words never have they never will but how you long oh for him to speak them for you to know that this is need, want, how can he survive. How can he survive without you. Without you. Without him. 

You don’t even hear the door close or see him lock it, there’s nothing until…

Tumbling, falling through time together sprawled out on the floor, your bed comprised of a scattering of your clothing. 

Hands grasping, buttons falling on the floor. Fingertips tracing but it isn’t enough, it’s too much. Fingers grasping at the rug on the floor, hair stuck to his face, to yours. Lips kissing every inch of skin they come into contact with, hips rolling, fingers tight in their grip to leave more bruises. 

Panting and yearning and saying his name over and over, falling further. 

His hands roaming across your skin and yours across his, eliciting moans as you both find one another’s core. 

Inside, pulling him closer, deeper inside. Filling everything, filling you inside and out, your body and mind are consumed by him, your life flickers now like scales and it’s tilting - he is tilted you forever keeping you just within a balance with moments that rise and fall. 

On your back one moment then flipping him over while he’s still inside you. Hands pinning wrists at the side of his head. 

Grinding. Deeper. Frantic. Everything. Close, closer, not close enough. More.

“More,” the thought escapes your lips.

The smirk it’s there again, go on kiss him, or stop. Stop fucking him, wipe that smirk from his face.

It’s there a flash of playful annoyance, “Baby you ain’t gotta do that,” he says and pulls the face where he tries to imitate a puppy. It’s pathetic, it’s hot, it’s so Reno that you can’t help but start to ride him once again. 

A second. Beat - no another, he will not turn you over again so quickly. Fight him, not like…playful. Teeth grazing his nipples, you know he likes that, his back will arch like a cats and his eyes close in ecstasy. 

You manage to keep him down longer than you’d expected you’d be able to. Wait, I won? You think. But your thoughts are ahead of you, he flips you back over.

“Hot Damn,” he exclaims as he shifts his weight, hands gripping at your thighs, legs, he wants to kiss them and squeeze them. Over his shoulders, higher and higher. Bending you over, deeper still. A hand reaches for you, the most intimate part and you feel your cheeks burning red as pleasure courses through your veins. 

He thrusts harder, losing control of the rhythm that you know he prides himself on because Reno oozes pride and bad intents. But Reno loves to make to you cum. Reno loves…. 

Teeth graze skin, making contact with marks left in previous sessions. Yesterday.

Was it yesterday or the day before.

Before?

What was before Reno?

When you feel like you can’t breathe when the world is too much, it’s too heavy and starlight has become a myth. Reno grounds you, his cock fucking your mouth making you drunk on his taste and scent.

You like it rough. You both like it rough, occasionally violent, sometimes romantic, never careless.

Hands matted in hair, fingers entwine, lips bared like savage animals eating one another. Teeth against teeth, tongues dancing, saliva dripping. It’s messy, it usually is. 

Reno paints you with his bodily fluids, sticky, a grotesque portrait. 

You are Reno’s world. You were….

“Reno…baby.” you whisper into his ear so he shivers, nibbling his earlobe.

You remember the first time, it was like last time. Every time.

Reno was your freedom and you his, like sparks igniting through every cell when his fingers traced your abdomen, he set you alight. 

Fingers dipping in and out, pinch, stroke, flick, suck, fuck harder and harder.

Legs round his bony hips, grabbing tight, sucking in the very air trapped inside your frantically beating chest, leverage at your throat. 

There’s always a safe word. 

Fluttering of eyelids, a desperation to keep eyes open to watch as the other comes undone, comes apart, comes….cums…cums….

“I’m gonna,” he pants, practically in pain with the sweet release.

Honey trickling from between legs as his fingers work to ensure you join him in his gnostic climax. 

“Anything,” you say, the word has lost all meaning and equally means everything. It means anything because you know that you will do anything for Reno, anything to make him happy, anything to hold onto this for just one more night. 

Pant. Breathe. You can remember how to do that can’t you?

Lightning illuminates the sky as Reno tumbles from you, you both lay naked unashamed on the floor. 

Propping up on your elbows kissing his collar bone, “I love you honey,” he says, he’s never….not like this. It’s so fucking clear like the sky when you’re outside in summer away from the city. 

You dive into his words, his world, there’s a world you share consuming one another.

“Fuck I love you too….”

Falling  
Falling in love.  
Is this what it’s like?  
The tendrils of that love, so fragile climb across your mind , twist and turn like ivy.  
Somehow you’ll make it.

And he looks at you now, all seriousness, “I think,” and when he starts to talk you know to listen because his tone is just that, this is important you understand , “We….The Turks I mean, we,” he sighs. You can feel the weight on his shoulders pushing him down. 

Capture his lips in your own, milk the word from him even though you know what’s coming. You’ve spoken about it before, you saw the cracks appear so when he confesses his guilt and expresses a change of heart it doesn’t come as a surprise.

He talks like you’re a priest and he’s attending confession. Needs you to reassure him, to absolve him. But the past you know has a way of catching up. Atonement, that he can do. He is grown. 

Round two, drink him down like syrup it’ll make the pain go away it’s the best medicine. 

Stay away from the fighting. Do not join.

If I don’t join in then it's compliance... I can't, no more. 

Silence = death, graffiti from childhood comes back to you. You’re from the slums, this is your fight too, if Reno and the others are willing to change. 

You stand from the floor and pull Reno to his feet, scooping him into your arms as if he were a babe baptised. Naked you embrace, in silence you stand shaking, knees weak from climax, his scent on your breath and yours on his. The light that flashes outside momentarily captures the moment like a photograph. 

“Against the glass,” you beg, your voice laced with desperation. 

Reno’s smug grin returns, “Now that would be my pleasure kitty cat.”

He pushes you into the glass, your breath hitches when your back hits the cold glass. You feel your nipples harden, his tongue flicking over one, your hands in his hair. 

This is round 2, they’ll be many more. Then you’ll learn how to fight. 

You will won’t you? Don’t give up on this please.

“Please,” he murmurs into your neck, you rut against his leg without realising what you’re doing. Knee pressed in between your thighs. Hot. Sticky sweet. Sickly. 

When he thrusts into you again your foreheads press together, one moment moving as one. It’s never enough. But it’s everything you have.

**Author's Note:**

> I really enjoyed writing this and experimenting with style (plus writing for Reno is a joy!) I'd love any feedback people have and potentially hope to write a few similar pieces in the future.


End file.
